Director: William Friedkin
Writers: William Friedkin, Gerald Petievich (adapting his novel)
Producer: Irving H. Levin
Cast: William Petersen, Willem Dafoe, John Pankow, Darlanne Fluegel, Debra Feuer, John Turturro, Dean Stockwell, Michael Greene, Steve James, Robert Downey, Sr., Christopher Allport, Valentin de Vargas, Jack Hoar, Michael Chong, Michael Zand, Jackely Giroux, Jane Leeves, Donnie Williams, Earnest Hart, Jr., Gary Cole (uncredited), Jason Ronard (uncredited)
U.S. Secret Service agent Jimmy Hart (Michael Greene) is killed two days before his retirement by Los Angeles counterfeiter Eric “Rick” Masters (Willem Dafoe). Hart’s young partner, Richie Chance (William Petersen), vows to avenge Hart by doing anything it takes to arrest Masters.
The Flashback Fanatic movie review
I have almost no use for action movies anymore. I can still enjoy a vintage Clint Eastwood, Charles Bronson, or Chuck Norris flick. However, these days when almost anything one can imagine can be portrayed on the screen, the main focus for many films is just trying to outdo images of what has gone before. Spending more money on CGI and green screen effects never makes a script better. When all else fails, filmmakers will resort to shaky cam and fast cut editing to try fooling us into thinking something is evermore intense while neglecting good storytelling. All of this excess is a waste, because the action is usually so contrived that it becomes ridiculous. Worst of all is that the characters involved in these feats are usually interchangeable, snarky badasses trying to ape James Bond, Dirty Harry, and Rambo antics in films devoid of wit or grit.
By the mid-1980s, I was already becoming aware of the action films’ idiotic excesses, as they were becoming a specific and generic genre. That’s why To Live and Die in L.A. was a refreshing kick in the ass. It is a neo-noir film and crime thriller that has style without larger-than-life heroics. Actually, the only character in the film that seems truly heroic is Jimmy Hart, the veteran U.S. Secret Service agent who is killed off early in the film.
Probably the real reason that To Live and Die in L.A. flirts with the action film label is that it has a long and exciting car chase rivaling director William Friedkin’s other epic achievement of motorized mayhem in 1971’s The French Connection. There are no other action set pieces in the film; only brief foot chases and quick bursts of violence. What we witness are not superhuman feats and physics defying stunts, but rash and ruthless acts that give this film an edge.
The two main protagonists are, as director Friedkin puts it, two sides of the same coin. Both U.S. Secret Service agent Richie Chance and counterfeiter Rick Masters are involved in risky professions that cross personal and legal boundaries. Chance seems driven not only by his one honorable sentiment of avenging his partner’s death; he gets an adrenalin rush facing danger. Masters affects a hip and avant-garde persona as a frustrated artist while making a living as a counterfeiter who must often resort to cold-blooded acts of violence. These two men are deliberate and unrepentant about how they achieve their objectives. It is probably no accident that both characters have similar first names. Ironically, the actors portraying them, William Petersen and Willem Dafoe, also have nearly identical first names. Dafoe’s actual given first name at birth was William.
In this very early film role, William Petersen is really fine as our “hero.” His Richie Chance probably approaches his job as a macho challenge that gives him the same sense of satisfaction as his bungee jumping off of a bridge. Initially, we are probably going to think such a gung-ho attitude makes him someone to admire. We can also empathize with his payback agenda against Rick Masters, even if Chance steps over the legal line to try nailing him. However, Chance already has a history of ruthless behavior. He has been using parolee Ruth Lanier (Darlanne Fluegel) sexually and as his informant. If she does not cooperate, he will get her parole revoked. Frankly, U.S. Secret Service agent Richie Chance is an asshole.
Another standout performer here who was also about to achieve stardom is Willem Dafoe. His hip and cold-blooded counterfeiter, Rick Masters, is one of my favorite villains. When dealing with anyone in his illegal line of business, he is utterly deadpan. Masters doesn’t raise his voice, even in the most violent situations, and he will savor the moment with an irreverent comment before pulling the trigger. His motivations are never explained, yet we see his artistic endeavors that he seems conflicted about. Masters might be trying to purge some inner turmoil though his art, but it is the technical application of his talents making counterfeit money that fulfill his comfortable and unconventional lifestyle.
John Pankow, as Chance’s new partner, John Vukovich, gives us the clearest indication of just how extreme and out of control these situations have become. He wants to be a by-the-book agent, while still being loyal to his partner. Like Chance, he feels a need to prove himself, if only because he comes from a family of policemen. In a world full of sociopaths and users, Vukovich is being tested and incredibly stressed. He reminds us of the very real physical and legal dangers involved in his career and his association with his reckless, fellow agent.
Friedkin made a deliberate choice to depict the seamy side of Los Angeles. We spend our time in taverns, a strip club, prison, warehouses, small apartments, and the streets of East L.A. The poshest accommodations shown are those of counterfeiter Rick Masters and the sleazy lawyers (Dean Stockwell and Christopher Allport) that he associates with. (Who says crime does not pay?) Striking shots of sunrises and the catchy, synthesized soundtrack by Wang Chung (Jack Hues and Nick Feldman) compliment the mood of this environment perfectly. All of this seems bleak and a bit surreal. Such an atmosphere suits the attitudes in a film that Friedkin says is about a counterfeit world; the money and the relationships in this neo-noir tale are fake.
Despite the stylistic trappings of the film, it always rings true. No one is portrayed as infallible and pure. The main protagonists, Chance and Masters, are polar opposites in temperament. But aside from Agent Chance’s noble goal of bringing his partner’s killer to justice, he can be just as unpleasant as the criminal Masters. Director Friedkin stated that he was depicting the very thin line between law enforcers and lawbreakers.
This film is distinguished by its authenticity. The co-screenwriter and author of the original novel, Gerald Petievich, was actually an agent of the U.S. Secret Service. In an early scene, we see the creation of Rick Masters’ funny money; courtesy of the ex-con counterfeiter that the film employed to show us all how it is done. Unfortunately, a kid of the film’s prop master tried to pass one of the phony bills at a store, which resulted in the real U.S. Secret Service hassling director Friedkin and his poor prop master.
To Live and Die in L.A. is an unsentimental reflection of ’80s attitude. Duty and machismo is shown to be as shallow as greed and fashion. The film plays the flip side of the crime thriller by refusing to romanticize the motives or abilities of its protagonists. It does so with a sense of style and ends on a nihilistic and almost mystic note. That makes this movie far more memorable than any of the era’s typical macho fantasies about saving the day with bullets, explosions, and wisecracks.
